Rome was glowing that night—music spilling from bars, laughter echoing through narrow streets, neon lights reflecting off wet cobblestones. And somewhere in that chaotic beauty… Estrella and Thomas disappeared into the crowd.
They weren't supposed to be out that late.
They weren't supposed to be alone.
But the moment the music hit them at the club—heavy bass, colored lights, the freedom of anonymity—they forgot everything else.
Thomas leaned close to speak over the noise.
"Relax tonight. Just… be yourself."
Estrella smiled, cheeks flushed from the lights—and maybe the way he looked at her. Somewhere between one drink and the next, between one song and another, something shifted.
They weren't Aaliyah's daughter and the guitarist anymore.
They were just two teens feeling something new and terrifying.
Outside the club, under the dim alley lights, Thomas brushed a strand of hair from her face.
She didn't step back.
Their breaths mingled.
Their hands touched.
And the night changed.
The Magazine Blow-Up
The next morning, while Aaliyah was drinking coffee and reviewing lyrics for her upcoming collaboration, her phone buzzed nonstop.
Notifications. Mentions. Tags.
She frowned and opened one.
A magazine cover.
"THOMAS RAGGI CAUGHT GETTING CLOSE TO A MYSTERY GIRL IN ROME."
But the photo wasn't blurry.
It wasn't vague.
It was Estrella.
Aaliyah stared for a full minute, waiting for anger to rise… but it didn't. Instead, she smiled softly.
Estrella hesitated at the doorway, pale and shaking.
"A-Ali… I can explain—"
Aaliyah stood, walked to her daughter, and held her shoulders gently.
"You don't owe me an explanation. Are you okay?"
Estrella nodded slowly.
"Do you… like him?"
Her silence was answer enough.
Aaliyah pulled her into a hug.
"Then I'll support you. Whatever happens next… that's between you and Damiano."
And that was the problem.
Because Damiano was not going to take this well.
Aaliyah's Own Secret
Later that afternoon, when the house was quiet, Aaliyah found herself staring at a tiny white box on the bathroom counter.
Her hands trembled.
Late period.
Fatigue.
The same chest-tightening fear she felt all those years ago.
She whispered to herself:
"Not again… God, not again."
But part of her—deep down—felt hope too.
She didn't take the test yet.
She wasn't ready.
Not until she talked to Damiano.
A Scandal of His Own
She walked into the living room with the box hidden in her jacket, only to see another magazine on the table—one Damiano had clearly tried to hide.
His face.
Front page.
Shirt half-open, paparazzi shot, standing beside a woman he absolutely shouldn't have been near.
"DAMIANO DAVID SPOTTED IN LATE-NIGHT RENDEZVOUS — TROUBLE IN PARADISE?"
Aaliyah closed her eyes.
Not today. Not now.
Damiano stumbled into the room, panicked.
"It's not what it looks like—"
Aaliyah held up a hand.
"We're talking about this later. I can't deal with two crises at once."
Damiano froze.
"Two?"
She didn't answer.
The Band Strikes Back
The tension didn't stop Måneskin.
Ethan had just returned from Milan—rested, focused, and determined.
The band studio buzzed with energy that hadn't been there in months.
When they all gathered, Ethan tossed a notebook onto the table.
"New era. New sound. Rome starts the fire."
Victoria smirked.
Thomas tapped his guitar.
Damiano nodded, still shaken but ready.
They worked until their voices cracked and their fingers burned.
By midnight, they had the beginnings of three new songs.
A new chapter—for the band and for all of them.
But back at the house…
Aaliyah still stared at that pregnancy test box.
And Damiano didn't know that one more secret was about to hit him harder than any headline.